<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Devil Devil by fuchszie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26235004">Devil Devil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuchszie/pseuds/fuchszie'>fuchszie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dracula (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BBC Dracula - Freeform, Blood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Maybe there will be, Romance, Smut, Tumblr, claes bang - Freeform, dolly wells - Freeform, haters to lovers?, maybe there won't be a happy ending, multi-chapter fanfiction, my god lots of fluff, netflix, rivals to lovers?, should there be a happy ending?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:47:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26235004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuchszie/pseuds/fuchszie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No summary made/created.</p><p>This is a fan fiction about the BBC's mini series Dracula (2020). Where Claes Bang is... kind of the perfect Dracula.<br/>This fan fiction is Dracula x OFC (Zoya Jarvis)!<br/>Enjoy Reading.</p><p>A/N: This fic will also be posted on Tumblr when completely finished. So my AO3 readers and Beta are the only ones who will know what's happening. Until I do post it on Tumblr. </p><p>IMPORTANT: Please do not post or discuss any spoilers! If you do, do so on Tumblr with a spoiler tag or the DMs/groupchat. Or! use a 'read more'.<br/>ALSO! This fic is rated M due to future smut scenes!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dracula x OFC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Zoya made her way to the Jonathan Harker Foundation at six thirty that morning. Her little Peugeot 307 groaned as she pressed on the gas pedal and turned into the parking lot, it looked abandoned and way too quiet. She pulled at the hand break and the car groaned again. She swore she had it checked out recently, but now the car seemed to groan and creak with everything she did. As if the car was slowly falling apart and dying on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light from one single lamppost flickered nearby, a fly curling around the beam of light, attracted by its yellow glow. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed as she turned the key in the ignition, silencing the car’s engine. Her hands on the steering wheel, she sighed and finally got out of the car. She tied her dark hair in a high ponytail and walked inside. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Zoe walked up to her, shook her hand briefly and walked out in front of her, “Thank you for doing this.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Zoya smiled, “No problem.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned. What did Zoe mean? She got the call, but Zoe sounded vague on the phone last night. All she said was that Zoya had to be at the Foundation at around seven that morning. And she had ten minutes to spare. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe walked to what seemed to be an infirmary and let Zoya walk inside. She looked at her and frowned but all she got was a response in the form of a smile. Zoya walked inside and the woman at the desk handed her a clipboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fill this in please.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Zoya did what was asked of her and afterwards she changed into green scrubs.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked to the auditorium but Zoe stopped her, “Wait. Follow me.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoya hesitantly followed Zoe and when she saw the glass cell, her eyes widened. She continued to follow Zoe as she walked to a glass door. The man inside followed their every movement. His dark eyes looked at Zoya. She swallowed.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A smile of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. She then realized. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She was walking straight into the cage of a predator. Zoe pushed her inside gently. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As Zoya’s eyes landed on the man once again, Zoe took out a needle and some empty vials. Zoya heard the clinging noises of the glass vials but kept her eyes on the man, who now stood a few steps away from them. Watching them. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe pulled one of Zoya’s sleeves up and Zoya tried to pull her arm away, but Zoe grabbed her wrist while looking at her from the corner of her eyes, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Zoya looked at her, “You’re going to take my blood without my permission.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe smiled, “You filled in the form.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoya sat down, realizing she couldn’t do anything. She watched as Zoe disinfected her arm, followed by piercing her skin with the needle making her whince. Zoya watched her own blood pour into the glass vial, Zoe however was watching the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were red. His irises still held their dark colour, but his sclera was as red as the blood in the vial. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Zoe smirked, she pulled the vial and the needle out and handed Zoya a bandaid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched as Zoe played with the vial in front of the man’s eyes, she laid it on the table and escorted a confused Zoya out of the cell. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The man walked to the table, ripped the cap of the vial and emptied its contents inside his mouth. Zoya watched him, she winced as she watched the empty vial as Zoe led her outside. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She felt violated. It was weird, disgusting as she watched the man swallow her blood. Zoe escorted her out as she just kept staring at the man, who slowly waved her goodbye. His smile and nails giving him away completely now. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, away from the vampire, Zoya retched and threw up in a trash can while Zoe stood nearby, looking away. Zoya wiped her mouth and looked at Zoe, furious. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have told me about Dracula.” She screamed. Not to mention the blood taking, she added mentally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe looked at her apologetically, opening her mouth to apologize but Zoya shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.” She walked to her car and dropped the badge she was given on the ground. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drove away with screeching tires and once she was home, she brushed her teeth and took a handful of breath mints. She squeezed her eyes closed as she tried to forget the image of Dracula consuming her blood, while listening to whatever was on TV. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>At night, she took a shower and scrubbed until most of her skin turned red. She angrily brushed her wet hair and towel dried it before she went to bed. But sleep was further away from her then she expected. She dialed Zoe’s number and left an angry voicemail, threatening to sue the Jonathan Harker Foundation if Zoe ever pulled a stunt like that again. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep finally embraced her restless mind and Zoya drifted off to sleep. Her phone vibrated not soon after.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Dracula is gone.</em>
  </b>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But Zoya wouldn’t see Zoe’s text message until the next morning.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: this chapter isn't edited! I will update it as soon as my Beta read it and I edited it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dracula was indeed gone.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He had managed to escape the Foundation’s clutches with nothing more but a lawyer. A lawyer he used to get used to the twenty-first century. And with Zoe trying to track him down, Dracula could indeed use a lawyer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya however, had never returned to the Foundation. She had no intent to do so any time soon and was happy with the job she did manage to get. Although it was a job she would soon come to hate. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At exactly eight in the morning she made her way to her office, the badge around her neck, gently moving from left to right with every step she took. Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face into a bun. She wore a white satin blouse, black dress pants and black heels. What made the outfit complete was the black jacket she had thrown on before leaving her small flat. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The only thing that had come close that morning to breakfast, was her travel mug filled with warm delicious coffee. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She walked inside her office and sat down behind her desk. She moved the mouse but nothing happened. She clicked the button on the screen and the monitor came to life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing she did was check her email. She noticed an email from an unknown person and she opened it. The contents of it was one sentence and a picture of the badge she had dropped when leaving the Foundation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘We’ll meet again.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her own face stared back at her, next to an A with a minus. Her blood group. A negative. Zoya reached for her travel mug, only to drop it. Its contents spilling out on the dark blue carpet. Zoya cursed and reached for tissues to dap away the excess of coffee. But the carpet absorbed the coffee, forming a black warm stain. Zoya looked back at the monitor of her computer and saw a new email pop up. This time it was from Zoe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Zoya,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I heard you got a job. I’m thrilled you found a way to walk away from what happened to you. I now realize I was wrong for doing what I did. I hope you can forgive me one day. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I was genuinely worried about you. I thought Dracula would find his next victim in you. And I can’t handle it, thinking he would have drained you. I hope we can discuss what happened over dinner?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zoe’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya sighed and responded to her email. She had no choice but to forgive Zoe. After all, Zoe was her only friend. As Zoya clicked the send button, she heard a knock on her door. She muttered an “Enter” before she leaned back in her office chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man, or rather men, that walked inside her office made her blood run cold. Zoya’s hand instinctively wandered to the red button underneath her desk. A panic button every desk had received after an incident years ago. The button would send a signal to security once pressed. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The men sat down in front of her, Zoya’s fingers were still resting on the button as she sat closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen,” she said, “What brings the two of you to Ace Intelligence?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man in the less expensive suit smiled, “Come now Miss Jarvis, we both know the truth. This is the Ace Organization. Don’t you cater to the supernatural?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya swallowed, “E-Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man picked up his briefcase and opened it, giving Zoya a folder. As she read through the documents quickly, she realized why they were here. She looked up at the man, ignoring the one next to him. Yet the hairs in her neck stood on end. Electricity sparking through every hair and cell in her body. She felt trapped. Stuck in a spider’s web. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand. What do you want from me?” She asked the man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His smile widened, “I think it’s obvious Miss Jarvis. My client wants you to plan an event for him. Since you cater to the supernatural and the unique, it should be easy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya frowned, anger pinching her, “Do you think we’re an event management company?” She grabbed the desk tighter as she leaned closer, her other hand pressing on the button before it appeared on her other side. Grabbing the desk as well, she rose to her feet, “We. Are. Not. Planners.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look in her eyes was one of anger and insult, burning holes in the man in front of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dracula finally spoke and when he did, Zoya could almost hear the charm oozing off of every sentence, “What my lawyer meant, was that we would like to hire your expertise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya finally looked at him, surprised, “My expertise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dracula smiled, “Of course. We have been keeping an eye on you Miss Jarvis. Your expertise will come in handy. I have been wanting to plan a soirée for quite some time now and your expertise may come in handy when dealing with the Foundation.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoya blinked and sat down, “A soirée? You mean a buffet. I’m not stupid Count. You want a buffet. Quite like the buffet you had on the Demeter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dracula’s nails dug into the chair’s armrests, “I can promise you Miss Jarvis, there will be no bloodshed. Just a civilized party among people. If there will be bloodshed, it would be by those who are used to it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was Dracula implying what Zoya thought? Was he feeding on someone? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms and leaned back into her office chair, “This is hardly the right moment to discuss this gentlemen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door behind them opened and Zoya briefly looked at the security men, dressed in all black. Their shirts almost burst due to their muscles. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She smiled, “These fine men will escort you out. And I do hope we will never see each other again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Security escorted the two of them out of the building. Zoya returned to her work, but became the subject of the day around the water cooler and coffee machine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she came home, she found a letter on the mat. She opened it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a formal invitation from Count Dracula to his apartment. Formal attire required. He was holding a party after all, without her help. Zoya smiled and shook her head. She put her coat and purse away and walked to the fridge where she grabbed some orange juice and walked to the couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning the tv on, she sipped from the plastic bottle occasionally. An hour later she was standing in the kitchen, in front of her microwave. Heating up a meal. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She often bought microwave meals, in case she got stuck at work late and had no time to cook something easy. Sometimes she could heat up some soup from the day before or she could manage to make some pasta. Other times, she was heating up a meal like today. Knowing very well it would taste bad or look like she put it in the oven to bake instead of heat up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the meal was heated up, she made her way to the couch once again. Zapping through channels, trying to find something good to watch as she ate. The only thing she liked were the green crispy peas that didn’t turn into mush. The burger was dry, the gravy was brown and salty but too thick. The mashed potatoes were just right but the butter made her pull up her nose. She preferred the butter she bought in the store than actual butter from a farm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At about ten that same evening, she crawled into bed. Looking at the blue digits on her alarm clock. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>